


Things I'll Later Lose

by avislightwing



Series: A Court of Biker Girls and Leather Jackets [1]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas, Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, Fem!Azriel, Fem!Cassian, Fem!Rhysand, Girl Biker Gangs, also everyone is ladies, which makes everything much gayer obviously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-28 01:57:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12595540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avislightwing/pseuds/avislightwing
Summary: The first installment in my pretty much all F/F universe crossover. Stay tuned for rival gangs, angst, and fun stuff like that. Title from Lily & Madeline's album The Weight of the Globe.In which Feyre Archeron, park ranger and sister, meets a VERY interesting woman at a warehouse party.S/O to YouLookGoodInLeather (@squaddreamcourt on Tumblr) for betaing for me!





	Things I'll Later Lose

Feyre hadn’t wanted to come to the party. Quite the opposite, actually. She had worked fourteen hours a day for the last week – it was the height of fire season, and she’d already bitched out three different groups for unsafe campfire practices. She was exhausted. She looked like shit. She hadn’t showered in three days. She was still in her park ranger’s uniform, complete with hiking boots coated in dust. But hell – she was a good sister, and Elain had positively begged her. _I don’t want to go alone, Feyre,_ she’d said, brown eyes wide and pleading. _But Mor invited me, and I really, really, really want to go._ And of course Nesta couldn’t come. Not only did she hate parties with every cell in her body, but also, she was absolutely buried in work writing her dissertation. So that left Feyre.

She really wished she didn’t love Elain as much as she did.

“Elain. Elain, here.” Feyre handed her sister a beer. “Drink this. You’re practically vibrating.”

Elain took a swig of the beer and made a face. “Ew. I don’t know how you drink this, Feyre. I’m just so nervous. I mean, I know she left her number. But I don’t know if it means she actually likes me. What if she just invited me to be nice? What if she won’t even talk to me? What if –”

“Who wouldn’t like you, Elain?” Feyre interrupted. “You’re adorable. Beautiful. Smart.” Feyre smiled encouragingly and clinked her beer bottle to Elain’s. “Go find her. Say hi. Can’t hurt.”

Elain took a deep breath and nodded. “Right. Okay. Thanks, Feyre. You’re the best.” She pecked her sister on the cheek, then set off into the crowd in a determined (if slightly tipsy) sort of way.

Feyre stared after her. It wasn’t that she begrudged Elain her romance. No, Elain deserved this more than perhaps anyone Feyre knew. But the fact remained that now Feyre was alone at a crowded, dimly-lit party in an abandoned warehouse, and the only person she knew had abandoned her.

Just as this dismal thought crossed her mind, someone bumped into her from behind. Not expecting it, Feyre pitched forwards, hands flying out to catch herself – but someone else’s hands caught her first.

“Careful, there.” Feyre’s savior set her on her feet. “Wouldn’t want to mess up your clothes, would we?”

An indignant, snappish retort rose to Feyre’s lips, but it died at the sight of the other person.

She was the most beautiful woman Feyre had ever seen. She had an undercut of short, dark curly hair, olive-tan skin, and the most ridiculous violet eyes Feyre had ever seen on an actual human being. A cigarette dangled from her mouth, and she was wearing all black:  tight slacks and a tank top, accessorized with a studded leather jacket and knee-high boots.

“Um, thanks,” Feyre said, stunned and staring.

The woman smiled, a slow, heavy-lidded thing, as she took a drag on her cigarette. “Of course. It’s not every day that a pretty girl falls for me.”

Feyre flushed, the hand not occupied with her beer flying up to her hair. She hadn’t even brushed it before picking Elain up – it was still in the messy ponytail she’d put it in that morning, wispy strands surrounding it like a back-country halo. Her cheeks were sunburned over her freckles from Wednesday, when she forgot to reapply her sunscreen. She was fairly sure she had half-healed scratches and bugbites coating her hands and forearms. “I – um – what?” she said coherently.

“Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Rhys.” Rhys lowered one eyelid in a wink, blowing smoke through her nostrils. Her voice had a deep, breathy quality to it that had Feyre squirming like she’d finished her beer, as well as a couple shots. “Nice to meet you…?”

“Feyre. Feyre Archeron.” Feyre stuck a hand out, realizing a second too late that maybe shaking hands wasn’t the best way to introduce yourself to an incredibly handsome young woman. Rhys, however, salvaged the moment by taking Feyre’s hand, bowing gracefully over it, and brushing a kiss across her knuckles. “N-nice to meet you too.”

Rhys straightened, eyes sparkling like the night sky. “So, what you brings you here tonight? Doesn’t seem exactly like your scene.”

“It isn’t,” Feyre admitted, glancing around. There seemed to be a lot of eyeliner and a lot of black and not a lot of people who looked like they spent time in the outdoors. “I’m here with my sister. There’s a girl here she likes.”

“Oh, really? Who?”

“Mor… Hoshekh, I think?”

Rhys choked on a lungful of cigarette smoke. “Your sister doesn’t happen to be Elain Archeron, does she?”

“How the hell did you know that?” Feyre asked, startled.

“Because Mor’s my cousin. I’m Rhys Hoshekh,” Rhys explained.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Feyre deadpanned. “Well, I hope your cousin knows that if she hurts my sister in any way, I’ll feed her to a grizzly bear. And then our sister Nesta will hunt the grizzly bear down, free Mor from its stomach, and kill her again.”

“Noted. Don’t worry – Mor’s the nicest person I’ve ever met, and she’s completely infatuated with your sister,” Rhys drawled, looking not at all disturbed by the graphic threats. “A grizzly bear, hmm? Nature girl, are you?”

“Park ranger,” Feyre pointed out unnecessarily, gesturing at her uniform. “I like… you know. The mountains.”

“I’m a fan of them myself,” Rhys said. “Great for cabin getaways.” She winked at Feyre, who once again flushed beet-red. “If you know what I mean.”

Luckily, Feyre only had to endure a moment of being completely tongue-tied, because at that moment, a bear of a woman crashed into Rhys’ back, making her drop her cigarette, which she quickly stamped out, swearing colorfully.

“Rhys!” The woman was at least a head taller than Rhys, and twice as broad. “You disappeared! I was worried!” The woman wrapped her arms around Rhys’ comparatively small frame and gave her a hug.

“No, you weren’t,” Rhys grumbled. “You were making out with Lucien behind the bar. Fuck off, Cassia.”

“Just looking out for you, sis.” Cassia’s dark eyes focused on Feyre. “Oh. Ohhh. Shit, Rhys, sorry, didn’t realize you were…” She gestured from Feyre to Rhys and back again.

Feyre tried to keep a straight face, but snorted with laughter. “I’m Feyre,” she said.

“Cassia. Nice t’ meetcha. Is my sister bugging you? I c’n beat her up if you want…”

“I’d like to see you try.” Rhys shoved Cassia’s arms off her good-naturedly.

“I’m good,” Feyre assured Cassia.

“Well. If you need me, I’ll be making out with the hot redhead behind the bar over there,” Cassia said, gesturing in a general sort of way. “Rhys, you seen Ari? She was drinking, an’ you know how she gets.”

A shadow fell over Rhys’ features. As suddenly as it appeared, though, it was gone, and the smirk was back on her face. “Well, it looks like I’ll have to leave you for now,” she said. “Here.” She took Feyre’s hand in hers, flipping it over. Then she pulled a Sharpie out of her pocket, pulled the cap off with her teeth, and scrawled her name and number on the inside of Feyre’s wrist. It tickled slightly, and Feyre had to make an effort not to squirm at the sensation.

She thought that Rhys would let go once she capped the pen, but she was wrong. Instead, Rhys suddenly tugged her close. Feyre could feel the heat of the other woman’s body, could smell cigarette smoke and sweat and a tang like metal, or maybe blood. “Call me,” Rhys breathed in her ear. “I want to see you again – before the next time our various relatives cause us to run into each other.”

Feyre’s breath hitched, and Rhys’ hand contracted around her wrist before she released it and stepped back. “See you around, Feyre.”

She left Feyre staring at the marker on her wrist, unsure of what just happened, but very sure she liked it.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr at birdiethebibliophile!


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